


alight.

by lucielwrites



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles, Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Gay, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Love, Soulmates, This is a weird one, Xenoblade, YEEEEEEEEEET, all of my shit is gay so like are you really surprised?, also a fair warning there is pain, blade summoning, it's a little bit ahead tho, it's kinda of au but not entirely, little bit of angst I guess? not much, lots of fire, set before morag became special inquisitor, so just be careful, soulmate bonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-18 18:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15492435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucielwrites/pseuds/lucielwrites
Summary: Mórag is having a really bad day.-(or alternatively, mórag literally catches on fire, ditches a council meeting, and meets her soulmate.)





	1. normal and then not

**Author's Note:**

> hey! ya boy is back with another story he's not too sure about but he's posting anyways! seriously tho, um it's been super hard to write lately so i'm trying to jump back on the bandwagon with my first ever multi chapter fic!!! would love some support and comments but i'm pretty happy just being able to post something after so long. really hope you guys enjoy!!  
> (god i love this ship so much. so good.)

Mórag is having a really bad day.   
(or alternatively, mórag catches on fire, among other things.)   
\- 

 

Mórag's day starts relatively normally, she supposes. She wakes up at an immoral time to meet Niall for breakfast in his room, where he complains about the council and how early it is while shoving spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth, and Mórag smiles and laughs and listens until Niall is reluctantly called away to a day full of meetings, leaving Mórag to head back to her room where she dutifully does paperwork until her fingertips feel like bleeding and her hands feel like falling off. She eventually leaves the ever-growing mountain of paperwork on her desk, and heads down to the training grounds, just after the sun has come up, to continue her daily routine. 

 

Hours after hours after hours, Mórag spends her morning training with others in the military and getting her ass handed to her. She can already feel the bruises begin to form in different shapes and sizes all over her body, and sweat drenches her entirely as if she's been caught in a torrential downpour of rain. All in all, Mórag decides it's a good training session, even if she'll be aching for a while after, and although she wants to continue it, she heads back up to the palace and straight for the showers. She almost groans at the feeling of hot water beginning to run down her body, slowly relaxing the tenseness of her muscles, and all she wishes for is to spend the rest of her day in there, but she knows that her brief respite of peace in the showers cannot last long. 

 

For today, she has a council meeting. Rarely, Mórag is ever summoned to a meeting involving the council, and she quite likes it that way. The councilmen tend to be a bunch of buffering buffoons that she honestly wishes Niall would just up and get rid of, and to them Mórag is everything she should not be, a thought they openly and quite often express. Although today, she muses, is probably going to make the situation between her and the council worse, what with the meeting being about her applying for Special Inquisitor. 

 

And believe or not, as she steps out of the shower and dresses, that's the point when her day started to go quite unusually. Looking back with hindsight, she didn't know why she expected the day to go normal at all, honestly. 

 

For as Mórag walked across the hallway to her and Niall's private rooms, she burst into bright, blue, scathing flame. She stilled almost instantly, as she felt the flame reach out of her inner self, like hands clawing desperately to escape within. It covered every inch of her body, as if they were vines writhing around her tightly, as if they claimed her. She felt the scalding heat radiating off her in waves, saw the flame burn through the palace carpet beneath her feet, felt it as it turned the bandages she'd just put on to pure ash – and then burned the ash, too - but none of it seemed to touch her. Somehow, Mórag was engulfed in flames, but not burning alive. Instead, she felt comforted by the flames, as if they were licking at her body like they were a puppy. She knew, somehow, she just knew that the flames would not harm her. 

 

Mórag raised a hand to her face. The flames flickered and swayed with her movements, as if she was connected to it – no, as if she and the flame were one and the same, everything and nothing, all at once. As if the flames really did rise from deep within darkened heart, as if they were not just a part of her, but as if she was made from it, for it. She closed her hand into a fist, and the flames became a little brighter. She felt as if the fire was dancing on her body, or maybe strumming along her like she was a guitar. It felt as if it was welcoming her, inviting her. As if it was finally back home, where it belonged. It left her feeling rather unworried about being literally on fire. 

 

And then she heard the flames speak. 

 

At first, it could have easily been dismissed as a trick of the mind, or maybe the sounds of Alba Canvanich drifting up to her or hell, even shouts from the training grounds below. Anything, it could have been anything, she told herself. For fire did not speak, but then again, fire did not curl around your body as it were a blanket. Still, she thought nothing of it. Until the flames burned just a little hotter around her face, flickering slightly as the wind brushed against it, and she heard the beginnings of a whisper starting to form right into her ear. 

 

And then the sounds of marching whisked her away from the murmurings of the fire, as reality hit her harder than any punch that had been thrown at her that day. She could hear the clicking of polished boots hitting the palace floor come closer and closer, could hear the telltale clanking of armor clashing together grow louder, and knew she had about a minute to get to her room before the guard saw her. But as she dashed towards her room, the flames seemed to pull and tug itself in a different direction, as if something were beckoning it. She didn't have the time to question it though, as she practically fell over herself entering her room. She eased the door closed as quietly as she could and locked it, knowing that she would probably slam it otherwise and the last thing she needed was the guard on alert and ready to barge in. 

 

"Lady Mórag?" 

 

She went absolutely still at the voice of the guard. She'd thought he would leave, that he was just doing his rounds. But apparently, today was not going to go that easily at all. So, she levelled her breathing, willed the fire to dim itself, and set her jaw. She just had to keep him out of her room, that was all. She could do that, easily. She loosed a sigh before answering. 

 

"Yes? What is it?" 

 

"Emperor Niall sent me, ma'am. I am to remind you of the council meeting that starts in an hour?" 

 

"Oh, yes, yes of course. Tell him I will be there on time, rest assured." 

 

"Thank you, Lady Mórag. I will be sure to deliver that to His Majesty." 

 

She heard the guard hesitate before saluting and marching away, even though he knew that she could not see him. She let out an amused sigh, before the panic started to seep and set into her. The meeting. The one meeting with the council she could not miss, for otherwise she would stand no chance at becoming Special Inquisitor ever again. Mórag started pacing back and forth. She'd almost forgotten, forgotten the most important meeting of her entire life because she was distracted by the goddamned flames. 

 

She stopped dead in her tracks. Fire, she was on fire. She'd almost forgotten she was on fire, too. Honestly, her day was going further and further downhill the more time she spent awake. Mórag had no clue what she was going to do. She doubted she could turn the flames on and off like a tap, and she sure as hell couldn't walk in the chamber full of council members burning like she was a fucking candlestick. 

 

And then she felt the tug of the flames again. 

 

She walked towards her mirror and frowned. All the flames swayed towards one direction. As if pulling her towards someplace they thought she needed to go. As if they knew what awaited her. Maybe they did know. Maybe the flames really were more than just flames and they truly did whisper to her and know her. Maybe they were none of that and they'd leave if she followed them. Maybe they'd never leave, and she'd forever burn until she died, and they died with her like a blade. Maybe she'd just have to walk into the council chambers with her head held high as she burned. 

 

But she felt the tug again, stronger this time, and knew she had to follow it. 

 

But Mórag couldn't leave her room, couldn't let anyone see her burning. She couldn't even imagine the rumors that would spread if anyone saw her, the rumors that could possibly ruin any chance of becoming Special Inquisitor. No one could possibly ever understand, not when even she didn't know why she was on flames. She started pacing again, too many thoughts flowing too fast through her, like a plane through clouds. 

 

But the flames were not content to let her just stand there and do nothing. No, she felt the already sweltering heat grow hotter around her ear, and knew that this time, it was not the wind or any other stupid thing she'd though of last time. The fire spoke to her. 

 

"Waiting, I am... waiting. Where the core... crystals... lie arest." 

 

She felt shivers run down her spine, almost felt her very bones jump out of her skin and flesh. She felt something stir within her, deep down in a place she wasn't aware even existed. The voice was unlike anything she had ever heard before. Ethereal but somehow human, misty but clear. She felt as if she could hear the voice but also felt like she couldn't. Muddled, murky, like everything was not all there. 

 

She knew then and there, that consequences were to be damned. 

 

She had to know, to understand, what was going on.


	2. a little bit more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more things happen to poor little old mórag, but it's okay. she can handle it. fire is nothing to mórag ladder, right? ... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for choosing my pic, out of all them, to read. I haven't been able to write at all lately, and when I first started this I thought it would go nowhere, but I'm really proud of myself for being able to do this, post it. so even if no one really enjoys, I'm just glad I could do it. would love if you left some comments or support, but just, thank you guys. :)

She had to know, to understand, what was going on. 

 

She knew what the flames were talking about, and where they kept the core crystals in the castle. She didn’t know exactly where she was meant to be, but it was a good start, she supposed. It didn’t even take her a full minute to plan out a route where she wouldn’t be seen, something that she should probably note in the back of her mind, so she could tell Niall to improve security later. Mentally, she went over everything, after all, she was Mórag Ladair, and she accounted for everything. Being over-prepared was better than being just prepared. 

 

Not even five minutes later, she was out of her room and into the world, burning brighter than ever before. 

 

It took a whole lot of effort and sneaking and hiding, something she quickly found that she was quite adept at. It took stealth to a level she’d never quite used before, and there were too many close calls for her poor heart to handle. At points, she stopped breathing, sure that she was going to be caught out, or certain that the bright flames would give her away. She could not even risk hurrying, for that made too much noise, and would attract people. Hell, she had to find an alternative route inside because of the guards that protected the room. But as sure as the flames burnt on her body, she made it to her destination without a single problem. 

 

A quick, quiet relief took over her body. 

 

But left just as quick as it came when she was physically tugged to her right. She stumbled a little, shock written on her face. Did the flames just.... push her? She had enough pride to feel a little insulted at the flames impatience and rudeness but knew herself that time was not on her side. But still, she wasn’t being that slow, was she? She huffed a little. How could the flames even push her anyways? And since when did flames have a sense of time, anyways? 

 

She was tugged harder to her right again, stumbling more than last time. Bastard flames. With a frown on her face, she let the fire guide her to where she knew she needed to be. There was a sense of destiny, of fate finally coming into play. As if this moment was something her soul had been anticipating for a long time now. She could feel the excitement in thrumming in her fingertips, along the sides of her body, in her very bones. 

 

Before she could even register the scene in front of her, understand what was happening, or even realize what she was about to do, she touched the core crystal. 

 

Now, this is where Mórag's day gets decidedly even worse. A lot worse. 

 

Blue light exploded from the crystal, the flames became brighter and bigger, her ears became deafened, her body crumpled to the ground, her eyes clenching closed as her whole world was altered. She felt the ether flow into her veins, felt it erupt into the world before her. Felt herself burn alive this time, felt the pain of her skin melting, felt the heat scald every single part of her. Nothing was left untouched. She felt her skin and bones char, felt them became blackened, felt herself dying by the heat alone. 

 

She didn’t see the woman that emerged out of the core crystal. Didn’t see the purple flames that came from the woman mix in with Mórag's own blue flames. Didn’t see the woman’s eyes open in shock at the sight before her. 

 

Mórag didn't see a goddamn thing besides the flames that were slowly killing her, devouring her whole body alive. She couldn’t hear, couldn’t smell, couldn’t see anything but those flames, the ones that were once a comforting presence but were now going to murder her and oh god, she was going to be burned alive. She was going to die before she would ever even live, before she could become Special Inquisitor and serve her country and protect Niall, and oh my god, Niall. She’d never have breakfast with him again, never see his smile or hear his laugh, never hold him again, never see him rule his country, and goddamnit she wasn’t meant to die before him. 

 

The woman from the core crystal closed her eyes. The pain stopped. 

 

Pain. She... she couldn’t feel it anymore. Couldn’t really feel anything, to be fair, but the pain wasn’t there anymore. It had... vanished. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Mórag was still on fire, but every trace of the pain was gone. Her skin, firm and tan and still littered with scars, but none new and still attached to her bones. The heat became bearable again, once more a comforting warmth tittering alongside her. She wasn’t going to die, she wasn’t going to die, she wasn’t going to die. She could breathe, she could smell, she could hear. 

 

Mórag felt such relief wash over her like a tsunami that in that moment she could cry. 

 

And then she heard a click. Like something snapping into place. Like something had firmly connected itself to another. It was loud, and it rang, and it echoed in her ears. She felt shivers go down her spine, felt goosebumps form, felt her hair stand up all over her. She felt energy tingling inside of her body, waiting to be released, she felt it jump at the sound of the click. She felt the ether in her world shift around her as she managed to raise herself up onto her knees, and as she lifted her face upwards, she understood the click. 

 

For as Mórag Ladair, second in line from the throne of Mor Ardain and hopefully soon to be Special Inquisitor, finally met the eyes of Brighid, legendary blade and the Jewel of Mor Ardain, she knew then and there what that godforsaken click was. 

 

It was the soulmate bond finally snapping into place. 

 

Mórag's soulmate was a blade.


End file.
